


of Pack and Groceries

by Aeon



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Vernon Boyd & Erica Reyes, Cora is kind of a bitch, Derek is Derek, Derek is still the alpha, Erica definitely isn't, F/M, Fluff, Grocery Shopping, I really should be writing my thesis, Jackson is adorable when he is asleep, M/M, More relationships to come, Pack Feels, Puppy Piles, Scott is just a really protective best friend, Will tag pairings as they emerge
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-04
Updated: 2013-09-07
Packaged: 2017-12-25 14:32:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/954243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aeon/pseuds/Aeon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek awakes to find a sick Stiles in his bed.  To fulfill his duties as Alpha and good boyfriend, Derek goes grocery shopping on Stiles' behalf.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all
> 
> This is the result of procrastination and the Pack feels that I have been having lately. The second chapter is coming along nicely - the one where Derek actually goes to the grocery store. I think it has turned out pretty funny; I mean, can you even imagine Derek at a grocery store?! Picture it, people! So watch this space.
> 
> I'm planning on making this a series of small fics based around domestic moments of our favourite Beacon Hills Pack. I may have brought Boyd and Erica back from the grave. I just can't deal with them being gone! It's too painful. Let's not even talk about it anymore.

_Will you still love me when I’m no longer young and beautiful?_

_Will you still love me when I’ve got nothing but my aching soul?_

_I know you will…_

 

Derek awoke from his dream with a satisfied hum. He couldn't quite remember what he had been dreaming about, only that it had been good. As the haze of sleep slowly cleared, Derek opened his eyes to greet the morning sun. It was mornings like this that Derek was glad that he had moved back into the old Hale house. The sunlight was just beginning to dapple through the leaves of the old trees that surrounded the house and Derek watched as the bees and butterflies danced around the leaves and the birds began their morning song.

Still toeing the line between awake and asleep, Derek rolled over and threw his arm over Stiles. He grabbed the younger boy’s chest and gently used it as leverage to pull himself closer so that they were spooning. Derek sighed happily and snuggled into the crook of Stiles’ neck.

Derek briefly considered falling back asleep, when he realised that Stiles’ usual scent was not right. It wasn’t unpleasant… but it wasn’t right. It smelled kind of like something he had been sprayed with once by one of those facist sprizter girls at the mall. Also, Stiles’ chest felt oddly lumpy, almost as if he had breasts. Fuck.

Derek clenched his jaw and opened his. Okay. Yep. He was spooning Erica. Derek let out an involuntary yelp and pulled his hand from Erica’s chest, jumping straight out of the bed. That was when he realised that all of the pack was in the bed.

“What are you all doing in my bed?” Derek growled.

No response.

“Stiles!” Derek screamed angrily, "I thought we talked about thi-,"

“Shh, Derek!” Scott hissed from somewhere below Isaac and Allison. Derek honestly wasn’t sure where Scott was in the heap of bodies on Stiles’ side of the bed. After all, it was only a queen sized bed and there were potentially 10 of them in the puppy pile. “Stiles is sick.”

Derek’s expression softened. Stiles had told Derek that he wasn’t feeling well yesterday. He must have spiked a fever in the middle of the night and was intercepted by the rest of the pack on the way to kitchen or something… either that or Derek was just a really heavy sleeper.

“Everyone move over,” Derek whispered, “there’s a whole other side of the bed you can spread out onto now.”

There were murmurs of disagreement. Derek rolled his eyes. He dragged Erica toward him, out of the pile and right to the very end of Derek’s side of the bed. She didn’t stir. She was the heaviest and most hideous sleeper. Derek shuddered as he took in her face; she looked like one of the victims from The Ring. Her mouth and one eye were wide open; her hair a tangled blonde mess that had taken the shape of the mattress over the course of the night. Looking at her, Derek recalled the time that Allison had found Erica napping in the janitor’s closet of that bank. Allison had sworn up and down that Erica was dead, but Derek knew better.

Next was Jackson. Derek fished him out of the pile and moved him next to Erica. Still half asleep, Jackson grabbed Derek’s arm and whispered groggily, “I don’t wanna go to school today.”

Derek raised an eyebrow. He rolled his eyes and patted Jackson on the head. “Whatever,” Derek barked. Jackson grinned, letting go of Derek’s arm and rolling over to spoon Erica. Derek smiled fondly before shaking his head and turning his attentions back to the pile of bodies.

He moved Allison off the top of the pile, revealing Lydia and Aiden underneath. He pushed Lydia and Aiden next to Jackson, before placing Allison gently on top of them. What had Derek’s life become? He was literally playing tetris with the bodies of teenagers.

Finally, Derek could see Stiles. Well, most of him at least. He removed Isaac and wedged him between Jackson and Erica. Isaac let out a small noise of contentment as Jackson readjusted his position to fit closer to Isaac’s body.

Stiles really did look sick. He looked clammy, cold, puffy eyed and pale. Scott was holding Stiles closely, both arms wrapped around him protectively as Stiles shivered into his bare chest. Derek raised his other eyebrow. Their bromance was insane. As was his pack’s ability to literally sleep through someone picking them up off the bed and moving them. If someone attacked them in the middle of the night, they would be fucked…

“Scott, I’ve got this,” Derek whispered.

Scott grunted in response, stirring from his sleep and looking at Derek. He nodded slowly, crawling over Aiden and Lydia to find a place next to Allison in the bed.

Derek jumped right into where Scott had been sleeping.

“Hey,” he whispered into Stiles’ ear.

“Derek,” Stiles groaned, “feeling sick…”

“I know,” he whispered, carding his fingers through Stiles’ hair. “I guess we’ll be spending the day in bed.”

“Can’t,” Stiles wheezed, “stuff to do.”

“It can wait.”

Stiles shivered into Derek’s bare chest, wheezing and coughing. “Gotta go grocery shopping. Nothing for the pups to eat.”

Derek sighed heavily. Obviously Stiles was not well enough to leave the bed, but at the same time Derek loathed grocery shopping.

“It can wait.” Derek repeated, hopeful that Stiles would drop the issue. “I don’t want to leave you while you’re so sick,” he said carefully.

Stiles raised one of his eyelids and looked at Derek. “You’re not even going to offer, are you?” Stiles asked bluntly, flailing as wildly as his weak limbs would allow.

“Fine. I’ll go. What to do we need?” Derek sighed.

“Milk!” Scott offered from the other side of the bed.

“Oh, and cookies!” Isaac shouted gleefully, apparently now very awake and full of beans.

“Coffee,” Jackson moaned.

“Peanut butter, ham, cheese, bread. And can you grab some of those steaks that we had the other night?” Aiden murmured groggily.

“Chocolate, soda water, cheerios, lucky charms and mayonnaise.”

“Mac and cheese!”

“Orange juice.”

“Oh, Derek, can you get some brownie mix? I’m having a serious craving for brownies.”

“Well, if Scott gets brownie mix, then I want cookies and cream ice cream.”

“Yeah, good idea! Can we get some chocolate topping while we’re at it?”

“Mince, lasagne sheets, béchamel sauce, pasta sauce… um… oh and garlic bread.”

“Oh, oh, don’t forget to grab some tea and some honey,” Lydia said cheerily. “Oh, and breath mints,” she added darkly, looking at Erica’s sleeping form darkly.

Derek’s jaw clenched. How in the actual fuck did they expect him to remember all of that?

“Well, since you’re all awake now, why don’t you all go and I’ll stay here?”

They all sighed and grumbled in unison, throwing random excuses at him.

“I’ve got a foot thing,” Jackson murmured.

“Period,” Allison and Lydia chimed in unison.

“My… uh… face hurts?” Isaac said slowly.

“C’mon Derek, you know that Stiles will heal faster if the whole pack is with him.”

“But I’m the alpha,” Derek retorted.

They all groaned loudly. “Yes, we know!” They all screamed back at him.

“As the alpha, shouldn’t you be providing for the rest of your pack?” Lydia asked smugly.

“Plus, we don’t have any money…” Scott added.

Dammit.

“Okay baby, I’ll be back soon. Stay in bed,” Derek whispered to Stiles. He sighed again as he mentally prepared himself for grocery shopping. 

“Derek,” Stiles rasped, “No sugar. Fruit. Vegetables. Healthy stuff.”

Derek kissed him on the forehead, “Okay, back soon.” Derek gave the whole pack one final glare before grabbing a shirt, his pants and shoes and storming out of the room. “What the actual fuck?” Derek growled, as he tripped and fell to the floor on the way out of the room. He looked at Ethan and Danny who were spooning in the doorway, smelling suspiciously of sex.

“There was no room in the bed,” Danny offered apologetically, smiling sheepishly.

Derek rolled his eyes, continuing his storm out.

“Where are you going?” Cora called out to him from the kitchen.

“Out,” Derek replied darkly.

“Where?”

Derek sighed and walked into the newly refurbished Hale house kitchen. Cora was sitting on top of the kitchen bench in a position that looked both dangerous and painful. Boyd smiled at him from behind the kitchen bench and waved.

“What are you doing?” Derek asked confusedly, raising an eyebrow.

She raised an eyebrow back at him. “Meditating, what the hell does it look like?”

“Do you have to do it on the space that we prepare food?” Derek asked, trying to untangle her limbs in his mind in an attempt to understand how she even got into that position.

“Yes,” she replied bluntly. Derek raised his other eyebrow. She looked at him expectantly. “Well, where are you going?”

“Grocery shopping,” Derek sighed. “Stiles is sick and the rest of the pac—,”

“Jeez, Derek. I didn’t ask for a play-by-play of your morning. Grocery shopping would have sufficed.” Cora replied sharply.

Derek rolled his eyes at her. She really was a female him. Though he would never admit it. Ever.

“Get pop-tarts,” she yelled after him, as he walked out the door to his car.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek arrives at the grocery store and immediately considers running the other way. If he only he didn't have a reputation to uphold. Providing for his Pack was hard! How did Stiles even do it?

It was extremely rare for Derek to go shopping. For anything. _Ever_.  He didn’t even buy his own clothes anymore. He wasn’t actually sure where they were coming from, but there were new ones in his cupboard from time to time. Probably Stiles.

Derek walked timidly toward the giant, fluorescently-lit supermarket, feeling the urge to turn around and make a break for it getting stronger with each step he took. Children were screaming, bitchy mothers were gossiping and old women with elaborately curled hair were complaining. It was overwhelming to Derek’s alpha senses, and he wasn’t even in the damn store yet. To top it all off, a fat kid threw up next to a bin not one metre from him. _Why not in the bin?_ Where had he come? Were these sliding doors to the supermarket actually the gates to hell in disguise? Should he call Sam and Dean?

Derek examined his choice of trolleys carefully. He had three options: a trolley with a handle that appeared to be covered in freshly-sneezed mucus; a trolley which contained, what probably used to be, a head of lettuce; and finally, a trolley that smelled suspiciously or excrement. He chose the lettuce trolley, purely because he thought the maybe-used-to-be-a-lettuce ball looked a bit like Cher’s face, or perhaps what Cher’s face would look like without all the botox.

He pulled the trolley from its resting place, which for some reason took a lot of effort even given his alpha strength. Eventually, with a symphony of creaks and loud metallic screeching noises, the trolley pried free. He wheeled the trolley through the small entrance gate and into the vegetable section.

Derek actually couldn’t remember the last time he was in a supermarket, let alone the fruit and vegetable section – in fact, as he looked around he was surprised to find that he had no idea what most of the fruits and vegetables were called. Derek looked mournfully at the colourful bins of fruits and vegetables as Stiles’ voice ran through his head. _Healthy stuff_ , the voice rasped and wheezed.

Derek sighed and gazed around the massive section. Any optimism that had survived the walk to the front of the supermarket was now gone. Derek contemplated giving up, leaving the trolley inconveniently in the middle of the aisle, and heading to the liquor store – a shop that he knew very, very well. But then he spotted her. Young, red hair, freckles, very slender, booty shorts, runners and a tight-fit white tank top – in other words, a health nut. She was navigating the vegetable fridges with clear practiced ease, placing more and more greens, reds and yellows into her trolley. Derek sprang into action, quickly steering his trolley toward her.

Derek remained just a couple of steps behind the frizzy-haired red head, eyeing her future purchases. As soon as she would pick something out of the fruit and vegetable coolers, he would quickly swoop in moments after her and grab the same thing. She headed to the deli; Derek remained closely on her trail. She looked back at him curiously. He quickly and flawlessly pretended to be examining what he thought were red lemons – she bought it. They always did.

Derek resumed following her as inconspicuously as he could manage. She was now at the deli talking very excitedly to a large grumpy looking woman. Her hair was in a loose bun, sagging limply from the back of her head. She had large bags under her sunken eyes, which cut into her leather-like skin – all in all, her head looked like a small, cheap leather handbag that had had a bowling ball stuffed into it. Unpleasant.

The red-head moved on, joyfully skipping back down the aisle with her trolley full of garden. Derek hesitantly approached the unpleasant-looking round woman. She eyed him with… Well, Derek couldn’t tell; it was hard to tell through 40-years of cake.

“Can I help you?” She wheezed.

“Yes,” he coughed, arranging the words in his head, “I would like whatever that young lady just ordered.”

“Excuse me?” with great difficulty she raised a fat-fold, which Derek assumed contained an eyebrow.

“I would like to obtain whatever that young lady just ordered,” he said stiffly, feeling his second wind of optimism coming to an abrupt halt.

“Why?” her voice was thick with sarcasm, and her breath smelt like ham. Derek crinkled his nose and leaned away from her.

“Just give me whatever she ordered!”

She shrugged, and with a little effort, reached inside the fridge and started packing cow tongues into a small plastic bag. Derek could see her hideous fingernails splitting through her rubber gloves – they were brown, with little silver stars glued to the tips. Time seemed to slow, like it does in movies when emphasising something revolting, as the deli-lady scraped her fingernails lightly against the tongues as she went to pick them up. Derek didn’t know whether it was the tongues or the fingernails that got him, perhaps it was the series of black-heads lining the woman’s upper lip, but he decided to leave. He pushed the trolley away, trying to pick up the red-head’s trail. He looked back once as he rounded the corner into the next aisle, the deli-woman was staring at him with an odd smile… perhaps she just had gas, whatever the case, Derek decided that was to be his final trip to the deli. Ever.

Derek had lost the red-head; she was nowhere to be seen. He was now moments away from tipping the trolley over and wolfing out. What was he going to do now without that bubble-headed twit? He took one last look around the store. There, next to a badly-stacked pyramid of organic-vegan toilet paper was a small red curl. He raced over to the toilet paper, where he found her walking slowly down the health and beauty section. He picked up her trail, but not before grabbing a few packs of the toilet paper (how could toilet paper not be vegan? He was curious).

Derek strolled down the health and beauty aisle, absently pulling things off shelves and throwing them in his trolley. Derek suddenly realised that he had followed her to the tampon section. It was big and colourful, promising so many different sizes in such oddly small packages.

“You know,” he cooed to himself, “I’ve always been curious.”

He got one of every packet, sick of legends and hearsay – he had to know the truth once and for all. He read the packets as he threw them in them in, they ranged from extra small to super maxi jumbo (Derek would open those ones first).

“Uh… Derek… what are you doing?”

Derek nearly choked on his own tongue. “Uh… nothing,” he yelled frantically, spinning around to look at whoever was addressing him. It was the twins. They smiled at him innocently, cocking their heads curiously.

Derek attempted to subtly position himself in front of the trolley, in an attempt to obscure its tampon-laden contents from the twins’ eyes. “What are you two doing here?” Derek growled.

“Stiles sent us to help you,” they said in unison.

“Go home,” Derek barked, turning around and pushing the trolley away from the twins as fast as he could. He rounded the corner into the next aisle and immediately started dumping the tampons into the grooves of the magazine section. He picked up the last box, checking his blind spots quickly for any sign of the twins; nothing but a very attractive red head. He breathed a sigh of relief.

“Derek,” Lydia chimed.

Derek’s jaw tensed. So close. He turned around to face her, tampon box in hand. “Lydia. I… uh… remembered that you and Allison said that you had your period… so I got you… some… tampons.” _Smooth, Hale._

She looked him up and down suspiciously. “Thanks,” she said cheerily, “though you realise that we were both lying in order to get out of going grocery shopping.”

“Yes,” he answered robotically, slowly and carefully placing the tampon box back into the trolley. She beamed at him. “So, let me guess, Stiles sent you?”

“Yep,” she said, inspecting her nails, “he was scared you’d wolf out and kill a small red-headed vegan or something.”

Derek raised an eyebrow, contemplating the possibility of Stiles having remote access to the security cameras in this horrid place. “That’s oddly specific,” Derek said gruffly.

Lydia shrugged, walking past him and planting a small kiss on his cheek. “C’mon, we’re out of shampoo and conditioner.”

Derek steered the trolley after her, brushing random things into the trolley as he went. He was sure that at least some of them would be useful and/or edible. They met the twins back at the health and beauty section, where Lydia passed them the plastic bag of empty waterbottles that she had been holding. “Those bottles up there, that body wash and those moisturisers,” she whispered conspiratorially, pointing at the various products. Ethan and Aiden immediately began what appeared to be a worryingly practiced routine of popping caps on shower products and squeezing their contents into empty waterbottles. Lydia appeared very calm, leaning against the trolley and filing her nails.

“What the hell are you doing?” Derek barked. “Are you guys stealing shower products?”

“Yeah,” the twins responded, dead-pan, as if Derek were touched in the head for even asking.

Derek felt a migraine coming on. “Why are you stealing shower products?”

“Derek,” Lydia sighed, “It clearly takes a lot of product to look like Aiden, Ethan and I. I mean, look at us,” she said, gestured vaguely at the twins.  “None of us even have jobs, and the money my parent’s throw at me doesn’t spread far enough to cover myself, let alone Ethan and Aiden.”

Derek started massaging his temples. “I’m happy to pay for it. I buy everything else.”

“Oh, no,” Lydia said thoughtfully, placing her hand on his shoulder, “I couldn’t do that to you. It would literally bankrupt you. These are just the shower products; you should see the after shower products,” she added darkly, flicking her hair and walking away from the rest of them. “C’mon boys, the fashion magazines call to us.”

Derek took the opportunity to high-tail it out of the aisle in the opposite direction.

How long had he even been in the store? It had felt like hours. He considered again giving up and crawling back to Stiles with his talk between his legs. He just wasn’t good at these things. He was good at protecting and training and nurturing his Pack. Well. Perhaps nurturing was too strong a word… perhaps tough-loving was more accurate. He looked at his trolley, at the explosion of colours and objects that filled it, and realised that he had no fucking clue what was even in there. He was too tired to sort through it. Perhaps if he just rounded it off with some fresh bread…

Derek stopped and took a breath. He let the walls around his senses collapse and took in all the smells and sounds of the grocery store. He could smell the freshly baked bread at the back of the store, just as he could hear Lydia four aisles over instructing Ethan to go back to the health and beauty aisle and fill a water bottle full of lube.

He raced to the other side of the store where he had smelled the bread, reining his senses back into check. He took a sharp turn at the pet food aisle.

“Hello there sir.”

Derek looked at the source of the voice in his peripheral vision. She was quite a squat woman, with curly red-hair, a chubby face and a pleasant smile. She was standing behind a stall of small plastic short glasses full of blue liquid. Derek frowned at her confusedly, maintaining his pace and staying his course.

“Sir,” she persisted cheerily.

Derek ramped up the speed, moving as far away from her as the narrow aisle would allow. She waltzed out from behind the stall and stood in front of the trolley.

“Sir,” she said again, reaching out to hold Derek’s arm rather firmly.

“Agh, what?” Derek barked at her, brushing her hand off of his arm.

“Would you like to try a free sample of mouthwash?” She responded brightly.

“What? No! Where would I even spit it?”

“Oh, I have a bucket!” She replied excitedly, moving back to behind the stall and lifting the bucket up for Derek to see.

Derek looked at the bucket, horrified and more than a little miffed that somehow he had come face-to-face with a bucket of spit on his way to get bread.

“Is that a blood clot?!” Derek exclaimed, aghast.

“Yeah,” the woman replied casually, looking into the bucket. “Big guy. Very unhealthy. He really needed the mouthwash,” she added conspiratorially, giving Derek a cheeky wink.

“Uh… well, I really don’t want to sample your mouthwash. I’m in a hurry.”

“Oh, it’ll only take a second deary.”

“No, that’s really-," Derek began.

“Listen buddy,” she cut-in gruffly. “I have to unload all of these samples by 5:00. You can either try one or… well, you don’t want to know what the alternative is,” she said as she reached menacingly for her label gun.

A beat.

Derek wolfed out, tipping his trolley over and walking in the opposite direction of the mouthwash woman.

Fuck the lot of them, he was going home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Derek.
> 
> Another chapter around the corner. There's always more room in any story for a second puppy pile. Let me know what you think of this chapter! I haven't written anything other than scientific methods in a very, very, VERY long time - so I know it might all read a bit sharply.


End file.
